


Sticky Fingers

by Chiyume



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Consensual Sex, Cop Steve, Dirty Talk, First Time, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking, Sub Steve Rogers, Thief Bucky, caring bucky, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10035425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: Steve rings the bell to the dingy apartment, and takes a step back, waiting for a response.He is still more than a little bit annoyed over the fact that he has to be here. Of course, he had not been naive enough to assume that his first week on the force would be a walk in the general park, but come on… He had at least hoped that he would have a chance to get out there and make a difference; to serve and protect and all that. Instead, here he is, in some run-down, seedy part of town, tracking down a common pickpocket.In which Steve tries to do his job as a police officer, but ends up biting off a little more than he can chew. After all, the police academy never taught him what to do when the suspect ends up handcuffing thecop, instead of the other way around...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the wonderful and ever so glorious  
> [Nursedarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry) <3
> 
> Idea and Request made by the lovely [one-to-a-million](http://one-to-a-million.tumblr.com/) <3 Thank you so much for the prompt, honey!  
> This one was a real blast to write, and I hope you guys will enjoy it :)

Steve rings the bell to the dingy apartment, and takes a step back, waiting for a response.

He is still more than a little bit annoyed over the fact that he has to be here. Of course, he had not been naive enough to assume that his first week on the force would be a walk in the general park, but come on… He had at least hoped that he would have a chance to get out there and make a difference; to serve and protect and all that. Instead, here he is, in some run-down, seedy part of town, tracking down a common pickpocket.

He adjusts his belt, checking that his gun is still tight and secure in its holster. It still feels weird to walk around with that thing out in plain sight, but not as weird as actually  _ forgetting that he has it _ , which has begun to happen more and more often lately.

Steve’s not sure if that's a sign that he's becoming more comfortable with his position as a patrolling police officer, or if it means that he's just not good with guns.

Looking around, he rings the doorbell again, and when there's still no answer, he bangs the door with his fist. “NYPD, open up,” he states clearly. Then, he listens. The other side of the door remains silent, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling.  _ “Hey Rogers, you should go,” _ he mimics sarcastically under his breath.  _ “The two of you are about the same age, maybe he'll listen to you.  _ Yeah, right…”

He is just about to bang the door again, when suddenly, the rattle from a safety chain is heard from the other side, and the door cracks open slightly.

“What?” comes the grumpy answer from the dusk inside.

“NYPD,” Steve repeats as he holds up his badge for the person inside to see. “Are you James Buchanan Barnes?”

“Maybe,” the other man answers warily. When Steve cants his head to peer through the opening of the door, the stranger cautiously steps back, keeping his face in the shadows. “What do you want?”

“Can I come inside?” Steve replies.

There's a short silence. To tell the truth, Steve has no idea what he’s supposed to do if the guy says no. Steve doesn’t have a warrant, and his orders are to strictly  _ talk _ , nothing more. Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to think about his alternatives for long.

“Yeah, sure.”

The door closes, and Steve waits while the person – whom he  _ really  _ hopes is this James guy he's looking for – unhooks the safety chain. When the door finally opens, he moves forward, already set on the task to continue inside before the man changes his mind. He opens his mouth at the same time as he steps over the threshold, but when he looks up, he finds himself momentarily speechless.

The man standing on the other side of the door is, to put it bluntly, nothing less than ruggedly and damn near  _ insanely  _ handsome.

He's got long, brown hair that’s been tied up in a messy bun at the back of his head, leaving a few stray strands to fall down across his forehead. His gray eyes are sharp and clear in the light shining in through the door from the corridor outside, and his jawline looks sharper than the knife Steve's currently got shoved down the holster of his belt. He’s barefoot, dressed in a pair of black jeans, and he is also, to Steve's combined interest and nervousness, completely shirtless. The view of chiseled abs and strong, muscular arms has Steve forgetting that he’s supposed to be acting as an authority figure, and he can feel his posture sag a little at the sight, losing some of its bearing.

“What's this about?” the man asks as he steps aside to let Steve inside the apartment. Steve clears his throat, returning to the present once more when the smooth sound of the stranger’s voice ripples down his spine. He quickly straightens back up, shoulders squaring.

“How about we start with you telling me your name?” he retorts, and the man lets out a snort through his nose while closing the door behind them and locking it again. “I’m looking for a James Barnes,” Steve repeats. “Are you him?” 

“You've got a warrant for that question?” the guy asks jokingly, but when Steve only gives him a long, penetrating stare in return, he sighs and tips his head back towards the ceiling. 

“All right, fine,” he admits. “Yeah, I’m him. But don't call me James, all right? It’s Bucky.”

Steve nods, and Bucky walks ahead towards a couch that's placed in the middle of the room, and flops down upon it with a sigh. Steve follows in silence, looking around.

It’s a small apartment. Just a studio with a bath and a small kitchenette lined along the left wall. It looks cheap, but it’s visibly clean and well-cared for nonetheless. Not at all the stereotypical crack-den Steve had been expecting from this part of the city.

It’s been moderately furnished. There’s a TV bench with an accompanying TV sitting along the right hand wall, with its short end facing the front door. A small round table with three chairs has been placed in the kitchen area, while a queen-sized bed sits against the far wall of the room behind the couch, which Bucky is currently lying sprawled out on top of, seemingly completely disinterested in Steve’s presence inside his home.

When Steve comes up to stand next to the low coffee table, however, Bucky sighs heavily and turns around from lying on his side to his back, looking up at Steve with a resigned expression on his face. “So,” he says, without much enthusiasm, “what can I do for you today, officer?”

Steve swallows. He reminds himself sternly that he's here on police business, and that his unruly imagination is simply going to have to sit back for this one.

“We've been receiving complaints regarding a pickpocket that's been harassing the visitors at King’s Plaza,” Steve informs him flatly, while  _ really  _ doing his best to keep his gaze from dropping any lower than the other man’s jawline.

“Really?” Bucky asks innocently. 

“Yes, really,” Steve answers. “You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?”

“Can't say that I do,” Bucky responds, just as unfazed. “I don't go shopping all that often.” He looks Steve straight in the eye as he says it, and Steve sighs, deciding to change tactics. This obviously isn't this guy's first rodeo.

“Listen,” he says sternly. “We've got at least half a dozen witnesses placing you at the scene at the given time,  _ by name _ ,” he adds when Bucky lets out a lowering snort. “Technically, we already have more than enough evidence to bring you in, and—”

“So why aren't you?” Bucky asks cockily, cutting Steve off in the middle of his sentence. “If you can bring me in, then how come you're standing here arguing with me about it rather than arresting me on the spot?”

Fuck. 

Steve allows himself two seconds to think about what to answer. Bucky is a clever one, there’s no doubt about that. He has already seen through Steve’s threat of a possible arrest, and Steve has a fair suspicion that trying to make something up, right there on the fly, would only result in him making himself look like a complete idiot.

He decides to go with the truth. 

“The chief wants to give you one more chance,” he says simply, and Bucky immediately perks up. 

“Ah, good old Fury,” he says, grinning widely. “How's the old man doing?”

“He'd be doing a lot better if you’d only stop making life difficult for him.”

“Difficult how?” Bucky retorts, and Steve sighs tiredly as he pulls out a notepad from his pocket, paging through it.

“Three car keys,” he reads out loud, “each one stolen from a different individual, and then found in the respective pockets of the other victims.” He glances up, and Bucky nods. He even has the audacity to look impressed. 

“One necktie, two belts and…two set of female underwear…” He looks up again, and this time, Bucky is actually  _ smirking  _ at him, and Steve quickly continues, “all found hung from the ceiling in the middle of King’s Plaza?”

“That's mighty creative,” Bucky comments politely, and Steve licks his lips, gripping around his notepad a little harder.

“Twenty-six occurrences where people have reported getting their wallet stolen, only to find it at the mall’s Lost and Found at the end of the day,” he continues. “With no record or description of who handed it in.  _ Eighteen _ reports on cellphones getting their contact list replaced with names of comic book chara—” Steve cuts himself off,  throwing his hand holding the pad out to the side. “I mean, what  _ is _ this?” he asks with an exasperated sigh.

“Sounds to me like someone was bored,” Bucky answers with a shrug.

“You mean  _ you  _ were bored?” Steve corrects, and Bucky’s lips tugs up into a smile as he turns his attention to the TV once more. Steve sighs and tucks his notes back into his pocket, walking up to stand in between Bucky and the screen, insisting on his attention. 

“Now listen up,  _ Buck _ ,” he orders, and Bucky graciously looks up at him with what Steve suspects is only feigned interest. “I don’t know why the chief’s so fond of you, or why I’m not allowed to bring you in, but I’ve been given orders not to leave this place until you’ve promised to behave yourself.”

“That’s great,” Bucky says, smiling. Then he gives Steve’s hip an affectionate slap while peering around him at the TV. “Now move, you’re blocking the view.”

Steve turns his face up towards the ceiling, and he inhales deeply through his nose while slowly and silently counting to ten. Jesus, it’s like talking to a  _ child _ . Reaching ten, he bends down and decisively picks up the remote, switching the TV off before tossing the controller back down on top of the coffee table.

“Hey, I was watching that,” Bucky objects with an indignant gesture towards the screen.

“You’re not paying attention,” Steve scolds. “We’ve got  _ witnesses _ .  _ Surveillance tapes.  _ You’ve been  _ caught _ .”

“What, like that’s supposed to be the first time?” Bucky huffs. 

“People are screaming for your head on a platter,” Steve points out matter-of-factly. “You’ve been described as a public menace.” 

“Well,  _ people _ are fucking  _ touchy _ ,” Bucky argues with a snort. 

“Yeah,” Steve counters. “Having someone steal your stuff sort of does that to a person.”

“They got it all back, didn’t they?” Bucky retorts, sounding annoyed. 

“That’s not the point and you know it,” Steve argues. “You’re causing them _ emotional trauma. _ ”

“So what?” Bucky sneers. “If they’ve got no sense of humor, then that’s hardly my fault.”

“If  _ that’s _ your main defence,” Steve says, “then I’ve gotta say, you’ve got a pretty odd sense of humor, pal.”

Bucky glances up at him, and then he rolls his eyes. “I think my humor is pretty damn good,” he argues. “Society today’s just got its panties in a royal twist. Seriously, take Facebook away for less than an hour and people go fucking berserk.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve says flatly. “I’m not the Facebook kind of guy.”

“Well, aren’t you a special little snowflake then?” Bucky taunts, and Steve breathes out a frustrated huff through his nose as he goes in to lean down over the man sitting on the couch.

“Listen,” he orders sternly. “I’m only gonna tell you this once.  _ Stay away from the mall. _ ”

“Or what?” Bucky mocks. “You’ll arrest me? Against orders?”

Steve’s lips narrow into a thin line, and Bucky smirks.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Slowly, he stands up from the couch, and his bare chest nearly ends up brushing against Steve’s uniform when Steve refuses to move. Steve holds his ground while Bucky stretches lazily, arching his back a little, and Bucky grins as he brings one hand down to give Steve’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he moves to walk by.

“So,” he throws over his own shoulder. “Did your beloved colleagues tell you why they don’t want me down at the precinct, before they sent you over?”

“No,” Steve says with an annoyed sigh as he turns around to glare at him, “and I honestly don’t care, because— Hey, what the hell!?” His hand goes to his holster out of pure reflex, even though he already knows it's of no use, seeing as his gun is currently being held in Bucky’s hands on the other side of the room.

“Nice piece,” Bucky comments as he aims the gun towards the opposite wall while examining the sights. “I’ve always preferred a Glock too. No pesky safeties to worry about.”

“Give that back,” Steve orders tightly, and Bucky glances at him, still with the gun up.

“Or…?” he asks slyly, and Steve swallows hard.

He doesn't have to look twice to see that this obviously isn't the first time Bucky has held a firearm. His stance is perfect, his grip firm around the stock of the gun as he rests his index finger along the line of the barrel rather than the trigger. His bare arms are tense, as if he's actually bracing himself against the kick from a potential shot, and watching him stand there sends a jolt of adrenaline rushing through Steve's veins.

He’s got no advantage here, he knows that. Bucky is fully capable of turning around and blowing Steve's brains out, right then and there, and Steve can feel the fight-or-flight instinct kick in as he warily chooses to ignore Bucky's question.

He expects a threat, or another cocky remark, or mocking comment. Instead, to his combined surprise and relief, Bucky just rolls his eyes at his silence and turns the gun around in his hand, offering it to him by the barrel.

Steve doesn't give himself any time to hesitate. He grabs the gun, and immediately aims the weapon at the man standing in front of him. He doesn’t care what the chief said; this guy is obviously not to be trusted.

“On your knees,” he grates, and Bucky lets out a short, surprised laugh.

“What, no dinner first?” he asks jokingly, and Steve tries to ignore the way that suggestive question sends his ears burning with embarrassment.

“Do it,” he snaps. Bucky smiles, but instead of doing as he’s told, he slowly begins to saunter across the room in a wide, wary circle.

“Come now, officer,” he coaxes, “What do you think Fury would say if you accidentally shot me?”

“Who says it’ll be by accident?” Steve counters grimly, and Bucky laughs,

“Ooh, I like you,” he muses. “You’re funny.”

“Get down on the ground,” Steve orders, but Bucky just laughs again as he begins to walk backwards. “Stop moving!” Steve snarls, and Bucky puts his hands up in the air as he comes to a halt, right next to the bed.

“Easy now,” he soothes. He doesn’t look scared, not by a long shot, and Steve blinks. Something's not right. 

Bucky looks too calm. Too sure of himself, and slowly, Steve lowers the gun down. As he does, Bucky begins to grin. Steve then lets out a deep, exasperated breath as he watches the other man pull out from behind his back, not only the clip of Steve’s gun, but also the spare one that should be sitting in the magazine pocket of Steve's duty belt.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, though sounding nothing like it. “Gotta look out for myself, you know.”

Steve bites back a groan of frustration and then puts his evidently empty gun back in its holster before pulling the handcuffs out from the back of his belt.

“Turn around,” he orders with a hiss, and Bucky sighs, rolling his eyes again. He turns around nonetheless, and Steve steps forward. “Hands on your back,” he says, already reaching out to grab around Bucky’s left wrist. 

He's getting sick of this. He'll take whatever punishment his chief wants to give him afterwards, but this cocky little shit is definitely coming back with him to the station.

The moment his fingers make contact with the other man’s skin, however, things seem to happen all at once.

He only registers the fact that Bucky whirls around to grab around his arm, while simultaneously tackling him in the side to make them both fall down onto the bed. Then, next thing, Steve finds both of his wrists handcuffed, _ with his own damn cuffs _ , to the steel frame of Bucky’s bed while Bucky looms over him, obviously and rudely unhindered.

“No offense,” Bucky drawls, “I’m sure you’ve got top notch sleeping quarters downtown, but I’d rather stay here.”

“Uncuff me!” Steve snaps, but Bucky simply tsk’s him while waving a reprimanding finger at his face.

“Manners, Snowflake,” he scolds. “I believe the word you’re looking for here is  _ please. _ ” 

“The word I’m looking for is  _ fuck off _ ,” Steve retorts testily, but Bucky ignores him.

“Calm down,” he berates, sounding like an adult speaking to a disobedient child. “Listen, I’d rather have you loose and about too, but I don’t want you to end up doing anything rash. You seem a bit jumpy, and I prefer my body without any additional holes in it.”

Steve clamps his jaw shut, glaring up at the other man, who without any sense of shame whatsoever, then proceeds to straddle him across the waist.

“So, let’s talk about you instead, shall we?” Bucky drawls, and before Steve can react, he’s unhooked Steve’s shield from his uniform and is holding it up to his face to read it better. “Rogers, huh?” he says. “I like it. What's your first name?”

When Steve remains silent, Bucky glances down at him from over the edge of the badge. 

“You might as well tell right away,” he points out. “Or do you want me to dig through your wallet to find out?”

“Steve,” Steve grits out tightly, and Bucky nods, pursing his lips. 

“That’s a good name.” He cocks his head to the side, looking at him curiously. “You new to the force, Stevie?”

“None of your business.” Steve shoots back. Really, what is this guy's deal, trying to initiate smalltalk?

“How rude.” Bucky smirks. “And here I was, pegging you to be the cordial type.”

“Let me go,” Steve suggests sweetly, “and maybe I’ll change my mind?”

“Or maybe I’ll just keep you where you are?” Bucky counters while leaning down towards Steve’s face. “Until you’ve learned some manners…”

Steve swallows. According to every basic instinct in his body, he should be panicking right now, but he's not. Instead, he finds himself literally itching with frustration, and a not-so-small amount of embarrassment. Bucky really had made an ass out of him, with basically no effort at all, and Steve can tell that Bucky is perfectly aware that Steve knows this. 

He glares, putting every ounce of intimidation into the look as he can manage, but Bucky just smirks, straightening back up.

“I guess I’ll go first then,” he decides with  humble gesture to his own bare chest. “I’m Bucky. I’m twenty-six years old, a Pisces, and I enjoy messing with people’s belongings for kicks.” He looks down at Steve, canting his head to the side. “I’ve never stolen something for myself that I didn’t actually need, and never from someone who didn’t deserve it. My other hobbies include romantic walks by the docks, movie nights, and, as I’ve recently discovered, handcuffing sexy police officers to my bed.”

He pauses, obviously expecting a retort of some kind, but Steve keeps his mouth stubbornly shut, and Bucky rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Fine,” he groans. “If you don’t wanna tell me about yourself, then I guess I’ll just have to draw my own conclusions.” 

Slowly, he reaches out and picks up Steve's police cap that's lying next to Steve's head on the mattress. He looks down at it for a moment, and then he tosses it aside with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. His eyes then go up to where Steve’s hands are still handcuffed to the bedframe, and then he smirks, before meeting Steve’s gaze again. 

“You’re fresh out of the academy,” he starts confidently, “because there’s no way Fury would send a seasoned officer to deal with something as common as a pickpocket. Even when that pickpocket happens to be someone as magnificent as myself,” he adds. “You’re also way too fit to have been seated behind a desk for any long period of time, which suggests that you’ve been doing a lot of cardio recently. I’m guessing you probably aced every single physical test back at the academy, didn't you? Am I right so far?” 

He is, actually, but Steve sure isn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing that, and so, when Steve doesn’t answer, Bucky grins, moving on. 

“You’ve most likely wanted to become a cop since you were a kid,” he deduces. “You were bullied through school, which is also why you have this obsessive need to serve and protect other people. You don’t like bullies, but you also don’t like not having the upper hand, which is why you’re practically dying to punch me in the face right about now.”

“Well, at least you got that part down,” Steve mutters, and Bucky laughs.

“Finally, some honesty,” he praises. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“The only  _ somewhere _ you’re going is jail, you jerk,” Steve growls. “Resisting arrest. Assaulting and threatening a police officer. Those aren't exactly minor offenses, pal.”

He knows that his cheeks are probably flushed by now, but hopefully Bucky will take it as a sign of anger rather than embarrassment. To underline his statement, Steve also sends Bucky another venomous glare, and Bucky’s smile dies a little as it slowly morphs into a wary, calculated expression.

“Come now, is it really that bad?” he asks.

“I’m handcuffed to your bed,” Steve reminds him grimly.

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” Bucky purrs, and Steve’s stomach makes a sharp flip of excitement, without his consent. The look out of Bucky's eyes is sharp, attentive, and for some reason, gives Steve the feeling that Bucky's currently paging through his thoughts as easily as he would have the pages of a book. Steve swallows hard, and Bucky tilts his head to the side.

“Are you single?” he asks bluntly, and Steve snorts out an incredulous noise.

“What kind of a question is  _ that? _ ” he asks. 

“Just curious,” Bucky says innocently. “You’re obviously not wearing a ring, at least, and I sort of wanna kiss you right now.”

Again, that same choked out squawk makes its way across Steve’s lips, at the same time as his stomach ties another excited knot around itself.

“You’re crazy,” he says. He tries to sound assertive, but going by the smile tugging at Bucky’s lip, he fails horribly.

“No,” Bucky answers softly, and Steve’s breath hitches when Bucky leans down to trail his gaze and a lone finger down the front of his uniform. “Like I said before, I’m just bored.” He looks up. “So, can I?” he asks. “Or are you not into guys?”

Steve opens his mouth, but he has no idea what to say. The words catch in the back of his throat, rendering him mute. 

“Or maybe…” Bucky continues, and again, Steve’s breath stutters when the single digit against his chest is replaced with an entire hand, smoothing down towards his abs. “You’ve just never had the opportunity to actually be with one?”

He looks at Steve with genuine curiosity in his eyes, but Steve can't answer, and Bucky shakes his head slowly at his lack of responsiveness. “Now, that’s a real shame,” he says with a hum, and Steve fists his hands in an attempt to keep them from trembling when Bucky rubs a lazy circle against Steve's stomach with his thumb.

“Handsome, noble guy like you… You should be given every opportunity you want.” Bucky glances up from where he has been following the movement of his own finger, looking Steve in the eye. “So consider this an offer,” he purrs while leaning in to stop less than two inches away from Steve's face. “All or nothing. Right here, right now.”

“W—What?” Steve stutters, dumbfounded. He can't be hearing this right. There's no way this guy just— 

“I'm offering to fuck you, genius,” Bucky clarifies, with just a hint of impatience. “Or the other way around, I'm not picky.”

Steve stares at him. For a moment he forgets that he’s handcuffed, or even a cop for that matter, because that’s— Jesus Christ, what—?

“You’re trying to mess with me,” he breathes.

“Am not,” Bucky argues flatly. “I'm being one hundred percent serious. Besides, a little fooling around never hurt anyone. C’mon…” he coaxes, leaning in with a low murmur. “We could just kiss for a while if that’s better? Start out  _ slow… _ ” He ends the sentence with a whisper, and he’s so close Steve can feel the warm heat of his breath beat against the side of his neck.

Steve is actually trembling now. He can’t stop it. He feels cold, as all of the heat in his body seems to be travelling to the center of his gut, right where Bucky is currently planted on top of him. 

Does he want to do that? 

To let Bucky do something like that with him?  _ To _ him?

A part of him does, that’s for sure. The same part that somehow ends up looking more at the players than the ball when there’s a game of sports on TV. The same part that, in high school realized that the guy sitting next to him in French class was actually pretty darn cute. The same part that, over and over, during his most intimate times alone, keeps wondering what the touch of male hands on his body would be like.

It's the part of him that Steve doesn't really talk about, other than with his closest friends. The part of him that is still unexplored. Still new. Still  _ secret _ . 

There’s another part as well, of course. The part of him that is a cop. The one that’s here on a mission, to finish a job, and it tells him stubbornly not to get fooled, to not give in. 

The voice of  _ that _ part, however, is slowly becoming more and more distant as Bucky suddenly chuckles. The sound of it travels through Steve like a pleasant tremor that chases the doubt away, silencing the orderly, disciplined voice inside his head with every passing second. It's a good sound, and Steve watches, helpless, as Bucky slowly begins to stroke his hands up and down the length of Steve's shirt-clad torso.

“What do you say, Stevie?” Bucky asks. “Wanna give it a go, just for fun? We can keep the cuffs on, if that makes it easier? With the way you’re shaking right now, I’d say you'd probably like it…”

“You’re actually being serious?” Steve rasps, and again, Bucky laughs. 

“Have you not looked at yourself?” he asks. “Don’t you guys have any mirrors down at the precinct? You’re  _ hot _ , Snowflake. And as cliché as it may be…” he adds, trailing his hands up to the black tie around Steve’s neck, “I’ve always been a sucker for a hot guy in a uniform.”

Steve doesn't know what to do. At the moment, he has a feeling he doesn't know how to spell his own name either, but that's beside the point.

“Yes or no, Rogers?” Bucky prompts. “I'm not into dubious consent.” Slowly, he takes his hands off of Steve's body to place them on his own, sliding his fingers up the length of his naked torso. “Don't you want this?” he purrs. Then he lets the hand drop to his groin to grip around the outline of himself through his jeans. “Don't you want  _ this? _ ”

Steve swallows, and the effort it takes to keep his throat from closing in on itself when he opens his mouth to speak is almost enough to make him lightheaded.

“Yeah.”

If his body hadn't already decided to give him a semi in his boxers, the victorious smirk on Bucky's lips that follows Steve's response would have done the trick just fine.

Steve is not sure what to expect when Bucky then scoots down to sit on top of his thighs rather than his stomach. However, when Bucky then proceeds to unhook the police radio from Steve’s belt and hold it up towards his face, Steve immediately decides  _ that  _ sure hadn't been it.

“Call it in,” Bucky orders.

“What?” Steve says blankly.

“You really want them to come looking for you?” Bucky says, wiggling the radio a little. “ _ Call it in.  _ Tell them—” He chuckles. “You know what? Tell them whatever the fuck you want…” He smiles down at him slyly, and a pleasurable chill races down Steve’s spine when he adds, “because this is gonna take a while…”

Steve forces himself to swallow again, clearing his throat. Then he nods. Bucky presses the button on the radio, causing a buzz of static to sound from the speaker, and Steve leans up to put his mouth closer to the microphone. “PBBS Thirty-six, ID seven-two-four to Central, do you copy?”

Bucky lets up the button, and another crackle is heard.

_ “Thirty-six, this is Central. What’s up?” _

Steve lets out a low snort of relief. It’s Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” he greets, dropping the formal language when Bucky presses the button again. “How’s it going?”

_ “All good, all good,” _ Sam responds. _ “Almost lunch time. How’s the job treating you?” _

“It’s fine,” Steve answers, making an effort not to look up at Bucky’s skeptically raised eyebrow as he continues, “Listen, I’m on a ten-seventy-five right now with a ten-fourteen…”

_ “You need assistance?”  _ Sam answers, so quickly the push of Bucky’s thumb isn’t fast enough to let the whole sentence through. 

“No!” Steve answers sharply. “No, no assistance, that’s— I just wanted to let dispatch know that I’m probably gonna be here for a while.” 

_ “What zone?” _

“Brooklyn K-one sixty. You should have the address on file.”

_ “Yeah, I've got it. So they set you on the King’s Plaza case, huh?” _ Sam says sympathetically. _ “Good luck man, you're gonna need it.” _

“Thanks,” Steve snorts. Bucky grins, biting down on his lower lip with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows as he pulls the radio away from Steve's mouth, letting the button up.

“Tell him you’re gonna turn the radio off,” he orders.

“Why?” Steve asks with a suspicious frown. 

“ _ Because _ ,” Bucky says patiently, “police radio static ain’t exactly the most erotic soundtrack to make out to.”

Yeah, Steve guesses he can agree with him on that.

“I'm gonna have to turn the radio off,” Steve says into the radio when Bucky holds it out for him again. “The guy I'm with, he…gets nervous from the static.”

_ “You sure that's a good idea?” _ Sam asks skeptically.  

“Probably not,” Steve admits.

_ “Ten-four on that,” _ Sam says with a snort.  _ “I'll put you down for a ten-sixty-one then. Just remember to call it in when you're done.” _

“Copy that,” Steve promises.

_ “Watch your back, Steve,” _ Sam warns.  _ “I’ve heard people say that guy’s a sneaky sonofabitch. Harmless enough, but sneaky. Don't let him get the drop on you, okay?” _

“Yeah…” Steve says slowly with a glance up towards the cuffs wrapped around the bars of the headboard over his head. “I'll remember that. Ten-four.”

_ “Received.” _

Bucky removes the radio, and pointedly turns the power button off before tossing it across the room to land somewhere by the couch. Then, he smiles as he moves to brace himself against the span of Steve’s torso.

“Now…” he muses, “we did say kissing first, right?”

“We did…” Steve answers warily. Like this, knowing that he just isolated himself from the rest of the world for god knows how long, he’s more nervous than ever. Apparently, it shows, because Bucky cocks his head to the side, looking down at him.

“Having second thoughts?” he asks, but Steve shakes his head.

“No,” he says firmly. He shrugs – an effort worth commending considering the position he's in. “In for a dollar, you know.”

“That’s good,” Bucky approves. “But like I said, I’m not all that fond of a partner that’s not willing, so should you want out—”

“Ten-forty-three,” Steve says, cutting him off.

“Ten-what?” Bucky asks, frowning.

“Ten-forty-three,” Steve repeats. He smirks, “It’s the code for a hostage situation.”

Bucky blinks, and then he licks his lips slowly. “Clever,” he comments, and Steve’s breath hitches as he then proceeds to hook his index finger over the top of Steve’s belt. “Let’s hope that's a safeword you'll never wanna use.”

Just like that, Steve’s duty belt suddenly comes loose, and how the hell Bucky managed to do that with  _ one hand _ , Steve will never in his life be able to figure out. 

“Up,” Bucky orders, climbing off of him, and Steve does his best to raise his hips far enough for Bucky to remove the duty belt from around his waist, leaving only the velcro of the inner belt behind. “This thing is  _ way  _ too uncomfortable to sit on,” Bucky decides as he slips the prickly inner belt through the belt loops of Steve’s pants as well, before tossing it over the edge of the bed. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something else you'll like,” Steve retorts, still keeping a straight face. He can feel it falter, however, when Bucky then pointedly straddles him across the hips with a smirk.

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he hums, and Steve clenches his jaw when he feels something that’s definitely not a gun rub up against his stomach when Bucky leans forward to drape himself over him. His muscles tighten up, and the tremble that had subsided a little during his talk with Sam suddenly returns with full force. 

“Relax,” Bucky whispers against his jawline. “You’re so tense… It’s not like I’m gonna bite ya. At least, not yet.” He chuckles a little at his own joke, before growing serious. Bringing his hand up, he tenderly slides the tip of his fingers against the line of Steve's face. “Close your eyes, darlin” he soothes. “I’ve heard that helps.”

“I’m not scared,” Steve objects immediately, not caring that the shiver in his voice makes it sound like the biggest lie in the history of mankind.

“I know you’re not,” Bucky says gravely. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.” He looks Steve in the eye, and Steve swallows hard. “Close your eyes,” Bucky repeats softly, and Steve does.

The dark is soothing, in a way, but at the same time it also makes everything a hundred times worse. Steve is suddenly horribly aware of the way the weight of Bucky’s body is pressing down against his crotch, and of his own growing erection that’s pushing up to meet it. He can hear Bucky’s breathing clearly from somewhere in front of him, even though the sound of his own pulse should have rendered him deaf already.

He flinches when he feels the hot puff of Bucky’s respiration against his lips, body tensing up so hard his biceps feel like they’re going to rip straight through the short sleeves of his uniform. He holds his breath, waiting, expecting a kiss that’s as hard and rough like the steel around his wrists, but it never comes.

Instead, when Bucky finally brings their mouths together, he does so with a soft nip of his teeth against Steve’s bottom lip, and the air leaves Steve's lungs in a rush so violent he feels like he’s going to faint.

Bucky does it again, teeth brushing over the soft, rosy flesh of Steve’s mouth before finally biting down, just a little. Then, there’s a fluttering, tentative press of lips, followed by the wet heat of a tongue. When Bucky finally kisses him, Steve lets out a whine so embarrassingly loud, it has the other man chuckling into his mouth.

Bucky kisses him again, and just like that, Steve’s shaking so hard he can hardly think. It’s too much, and at the same time not anywhere enough. It’s too slow, too fast, too much of everything, and it doesn’t stop. Bucky keeps kissing him, breathing in deeply through his nose and sighing into Steve’s mouth in a way that leaves Steve feeling as if his chest has been filled up with millions of tiny, whirling sparks of pure light.

God, the guy's a good kisser… His lips are soft, teasing, and Steve can taste the faint traces of peppermint on his tongue. It's intoxicating, and the handcuffs around Steve's wrist rattle when he forgets that they’re still there as he tries to reach down and cup the jawline of the man currently working on stealing away his mental faculties.

Unfortunately, the sharp clang of metal against metal that his actions cause breaks the spell, and Bucky pulls away.

“You okay?” he murmurs, and Steve lets out a objecting whimper as he chases after his mouth, not wanting it to end. Normally, he would be ashamed displaying such desperation from something as simple as a kiss, but he can’t help it. He wants more, wants Bucky’s mouth back on his,  _ right now. _

Steve squints his eyes open, not really set on whether he should be glaring or begging, but he immediately clamps them shut again when Bucky curls his fingers around the length of Steve’s tie and yanks him up to mash their lips back together.

_ There’s  _ the rough. The hard, hurried, and needy, and if anything, it’s twice as amazing as the first kiss had been. Bucky kisses as if he’s fighting, and Steve tries to reciprocate as best he can, in spite of being chained to the headboard. He groans, gasping for breath when Bucky’s lips leave his to latch onto the side of his neck instead, and Steve rocks his hips up, not really aware of what he’s doing until Bucky lets out a low, startled moan against his skin.

He doesn’t have time to think about what it means, because just then Bucky grinds himself down, and Steve chokes when the friction makes his cock twitch inside his pants. The rhythm damn near sets itself, and when Bucky’s teeth graze the skin of Steve’s neck, only to bite down a split second later, the tug Steve makes on the handcuffs causes the entire bed to sway. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot…” Bucky rasps, and fuck it, he's right by Steve's goddamn  _ ear _ . The sound of his voice sends ripples of excitement curling through Steve’s gut, like bolts of lightning heading towards his groin. Shit, how did he end up like this again? Does he even care?

“You tired of kissing yet?” Bucky breathes. He underlines the question by bringing both his hands smoothing up the front of Steve’s shirt, and Steve moans, arching into the touch. “Want me to get this pesky uniform off of you?”

Steve answers by nodding, emitting what he at least thinks comes out as a “yes,” and Bucky sits back up, fingers already working on the buttons adorning Steve’s chest. It’s not a surprise for Steve to find that a collection of common shirt buttons stands little to no chance against the nimble fingers of a pickpocket. Soon enough, Bucky splays the top half of Steve’s uniform open on either side of his chest, revealing the white tank-top hidden underneath.

He doesn’t waste any time there either, and Steve sucks in a startled breath through his teeth when Bucky yanks the top up, bunching it together underneath Steve’s armpits in order to get a good look at his chest.

“Oh,” Bucky marvels, and when Steve looks up, he can see Bucky's eyes go wide as the other brings his hands up to rest them over the firm bulge of Steve's pectoral muscles. “Now  _ that  _ is glorious.” He gives the muscles a tight squeeze, before smoothing his hands down to trail his fingers over Steve’s nipples, down to trace the dips in Steve's abs when the muscles there jump from the touch. “I take back what I said before,” he says reverently. “You’re not just fit, Snowflake, you’re fucking  _ ripped _ .”

“Thanks,” Steve huffs. He bites back a moan when Bucky brings his hands back up to roll both of Steve’s nipples underneath the pads of his thumbs.

“How do you get any work done with these around?” Bucky asks, smirking as he continues to play with Steve’s chest. “They're very distracting.”

Steve would like to say that  _ Bucky _ is being very distracting, but he can't, because the only noises he seems capable of producing doesn't come anywhere near sounding like actual words at all.

Bucky alters between barely grazing Steve's skin and pinching hard, and Steve twists and writhes beneath the touch, searching for refuge but finding none. He's helplessly exposed, arms over his head and his chest laid bare for Bucky to do with what he pleases, and the thought is just as thrilling as it is horrifying. 

Steve grits his teeth, biting back curses and breathless gasps every time Bucky finds a new way to make his toes curl inside his boots. His body jolts and the muscles in his abdomen clench and jump in their attempt to deal with the reflexes Bucky's assault sends sparking through Steve's nerves.

The limit, however, isn't reached until suddenly, without warning, Bucky leans down and wraps his lips around Steve's left nipple. He sucks, hollowing his cheeks, and Steve keens to the ceiling while digging his heels into the mattress. 

“Oh, god…!” 

His exclamation is rewarded with the flick of a tongue, followed by a light pinch to the other hard nub still exposed to Bucky's deft fingers.

“Wait…!” Steve gasps. “For Christ’s sake, wait, that's—!”

Bucky pulls off with a final, wet pop, glancing up at Steve from below. “Having fun?” he asks sweetly.

“Too much fun,” Steve gulps. He arches his back, curling away from the teasing fingers Bucky is still stroking over his chest. “Can't you tell?” he adds, sending Bucky a pointed look.

“Indeed I can,” Bucky drawls. He pointedly rocks his hips down. “Feels to me like you're packing more heat than just your gun.”

At that, Steve actually chuckles, and Bucky grins up at him, obviously pleased with the accomplishment. Steve watches as Bucky then lowers his head down and gently licks over each of his nipples, one by one, before slowly beginning to press a trail of bruising kisses down his chest. 

Lazily, Bucky sucks a winding pattern of hickeys over Steve's skin, not caring about how much each and every one of them has Steve squirming by the time Bucky breaks away to start a new one. They bloom next to his nipples, down his ribs, across his abs, until Bucky reaches the very edge of Steve's pants. 

“Time to get these off,” Bucky murmurs and yeah, Steve is  _ so _ ready to let that happen. 

He cants his pelvis up when Bucky pulls at the zipper, and he can feel his heart begin to pound against the inside of his ribcage even harder when Bucky then tugs the pants down over the jut of his hips.

There's a telltale wet patch at the front of Steve's white boxer-briefs, and while Steve looks on, Bucky reaches out to drag the tip of his index finger against it, tracing the bulbous head of the erection just underneath.

Watching him do that does funny things to Steve's respiratory system, and when Bucky decides to lean down and nuzzle against the fabric stretching over Steve's testicles, Steve's lungs temporarily shuts down all together. 

“You smell nice,” Bucky compliments. “Did you shower today?”

“Every morning,” Steve informs him shakily, and Bucky smiles.

“Did you jerk off too?” 

“No,” Steve answers. “Not today, at least.”

“Good…” Bucky decides, making Steve's cock twitch when he leans in to drag his lips over the fabric covering it. “Then this next part is bound to be even more fun.”

Steve expects something new and spectacularly pleasurable to happen next, but instead of actually doing anything, Bucky simply sits up and climbs off the bed. 

Steve follows him with his eyes as he walks up to the bedside table and pulls the bottom drawer out. Reaching down, Bucky then proceeds to get out three items, tossing them onto the bed next to Steve's hip before closing the drawer once more.

Steve recognizes the items pretty much immediately. Then again, why shouldn't he? The first is a pack of wet wipes, the second a row of condoms. The third one is a bottle of lube, easily identified by the label on the front. Together, they combine an image that makes Steve's throat run dry.

“Now, this is how it's gonna work,” Bucky says while crawling back onto the mattress to settle himself in the vee in between Steve's parted legs. “You have a choice to make, Snowflake.” He reaches for the lube, holding it up. “Either, I use this to open myself up while sucking you off, and then I'll let you fuck my ass while I ride your cock right here on the bed.”

Steve nods, chest heaving with the deep gulp of air Bucky's words cause him to suck down his lungs.

“Or,” Bucky continues, just as calmly, “I use it on you, and then I'll make sure you get to experience one of the best goddamn orgasms you'll ever have.” He wiggles the bottle back and forth. “So which one is it gonna be?”

Steve looks at the bottle in Bucky's hand, heart still banging against his ribcage. He gets to  _ choose _ . 

Jesus Christ,  _ he _ gets to choose. 

He hadn't even considered the fact that things might go this far. Yeah, Bucky said all or nothing, sure he did, but— Fuck, Steve thought that was a way for him to assert dominance more than anything. It sure had worked well enough… 

Steve has never been with a man before, but he  _ has _ thought about it, more than once. So of course he’s considered what having another man’s cock up his ass would be like. It had been an exciting thought, and it's gotten the job of getting Steve off more than a little nicely (along with a some help of Steve's own fingers), but it's never been more than a fantasy. It certainly wasn't something Steve thought he'd find himself being offered when he woke up that morning. 

Like, he doesn't even know how… _ big _ Bucky is. Not that he'd have a problem with size, at least not if given enough time to adjust, maybe, but…still…  

His gaze flickers towards Bucky's crotch, where the evident outline of the other man's erection is still pressing hard against the fabric. He tries to be discreet about it, but when he looks back up again, he sees that Bucky is smiling at him. 

“Worried?” Bucky asks sweetly, and Steve feels himself blush at least twenty shades of deeper red when Bucky reaches down and palms himself through his jeans. “Don't be,” he hums. “I promise I'll be gentle.” He cocks his head. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, Steve? Or do you prefer it rough and dirty?”

Steve just nods, because apparently he can't seem to get neither his vocal chords nor his brain to work properly today, and Bucky shakes his head.

“Uh-uh,” he berates. “Remember what we talked about? About consent? You want in on this action, you better spell it out for me, buddy. What  _ exactly _ do you want me to do?”

Steve lets out a short, incredulous laugh, but when Bucky doesn't laugh back, his face falls. Oh, god, he actually wants Steve to say it  _ out loud. _

“I—I…” Steve chokes. Fuck, he can't. He  _ can't.  _ He whines as he closes his eyes, tipping his head back down against the mattress. “I want—” he starts, but the words won't make it past his lips. It's too embarrassing, and god, his ears feel like they're  _ burning _ . “Please,” he begs, hoping that Bucky will show him some mercy. “I can't say it. I can't—”

“It's okay,” Bucky soothes, and Steve opens his eyes to stare up at the plaster of the ceiling when he feels Bucky climb up the bed to lie down next to him. “We can take it slow. Step by step.” He reaches past Steve, and when Steve follows the movement, he sees Bucky grab around one of the pillows, holding it up.

“See this?” Bucky asks. “I can put this under your head. Prop you up a little. You want that?”

“Yes,” Steve confirms weakly.

“Tell me to do it,” Bucky prompts.

“Put it under my head,” Steve says, and Bucky immediately does, helping Steve up.

“See,” he says, smiling. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” He runs his hand up and down Steve's arm, petting him like one would a spooked animal. “How are the cuffs? Are they too tight? You want them off?”

“No,” Steve whispers, because really, he doesn't. Keeping them on helps, in some way. Gives him fewer choices, keeps him passive, and that feels safe right now. Bucky nods, as if he understands precisely. Then he looks at Steve's mouth. “Now say if you want me to kiss you. Tell me the truth.”

“I want you to kiss me…” Steve breathes, and Bucky gives an amused little chuckle as he leans down to oblige him.

The kiss is soft, tender, and this time, Steve actually has enough sense to kiss back.

“Tell me…” Bucky whispers, nipping at Steve's bottom lip, “Tell me where you want me to put my hands…”

“On me,” Steve responds, shivering when he feels Bucky place his left hand on top of his stomach. “Lower…” he urges, and he groans in frustration when Bucky only moves the hand a mere inch.

“You want it further down?” Bucky purrs, and Steve nods eagerly. “Where do you want it?” he asks. “Tell me  _ where _ .”

“Between my legs,” Steve murmurs against Bucky's lips, so quiet it's barely audible.

“C’mon, you can do better,” Bucky coaxes. “What should I do with my hand, Steve? What should I use it for?”

“Touch me,” Steve gulps. “Just— Jerk me off…”

“What?” Bucky taunts. “I didn't catch that.”

“Jerk me off,” Steve repeats, squeezing his eyes shut, and the chain between his wrists rattles as he twists around to hide his face against the dip of Bucky's clavicle. “Please.”

The relief when Bucky doesn't tease him is nothing compared to the relief that floods Steve's system when Bucky finally,  _ finally _ reaches down and slips his hand underneath the elastics of Steve's underwear to grip around him.

“Like this?” Bucky whispers slyly, moving his hand up and down the length of Steve's erection, and Steve moans, nodding. “Does it feel good?” Bucky continues. “You like my hand on your cock, Stevie?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathes. “That’s good…”

“Is there anything else of mine you think would feel good on you?”

Steve groans, and his hips rock into Bucky's grip, because oh, yeah, he's definitely got a suggestion for that.

“Your mouth,” he rasps. “Oh, please, use your mouth…”

“What do you want me to use it for?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds as if he's smiling. 

“I want you to suck my dick with it,” Steve hisses, because really,  _ he gets the point _ , and his growing impatience in combination with the pleasure Bucky is currently coaxing out of him is causing his embarrassment to melt faster than an ice cube in a microwave.

“Good boy,” Bucky purrs, and his approval fills Steve's stomach with molten butterflies. “Keep that up, Snowflake, and I'll make sure to fuck you nice and proper in just a minute…”

Again, Steve is only capable of nodding in response. Bucky moves to sit back up on the mattress, but before he pulls away completely, he leans in and places a final, soothing kiss against Steve's lips.

“Let's try this again then, shall we?” he mumbles, and Steve peels his eyes open to glance down at him as Bucky reaches for the lube bottle still lying in between Steve's legs. “You or me?”

“Me,” Steve answers, without even a second of hesitation. “Use it on me.”

Bucky smiles when the words fall from Steve's lips. It's an encouraging smile, at the same time as it's a smile filled with promises of sweet things to come, and Steve knows without having to ask that he just made the right choice.

Without saying anything, Bucky then proceeds to climb over him. For a moment, Steve wonders what the hell he’s doing, but then he feels fingers tugging at the shoelaces of his boots, and catches on.

Quickly and efficiently, Bucky rids him of his shoes, and with them, his socks. Then he turns back around, and with some assistance from Steve, pulls at the already halfway-discarded pants of the uniform until they come off completely. Then, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Steve's boxer-briefs, and looks up at him pointedly.

“Take them off,” Steve says, and Bucky does, leaving him completely naked, save for his shirt and tank top. It's exposing, in the best of ways, and Steve is already preparing himself for the touch of Bucky’s lips on him, when Bucky suddenly reaches for the condom pack lying next to them. 

Steve deflates slightly. 

“Oh,” he says. “You're gonna use that now?”

Bucky looks up, while tearing one of the square packages away from the rest.

“Yeah,” he says, and when he sees the disappointed look on Steve's face, he adds, “I don't know you all that well, pal.”

“No, I get it,” Steve assures him quickly. “You're looking out for you, that's…smart.”

“But?” Bucky says, smirking. His fingers pause around the foil in his hands, and Steve swallows hard.

Dammit, he doesn't want to be a douchebag, but he really, really had been hoping for this to happen without having to experience it through a latex barrier.

“Listen, I know everyone says this,” he says slowly. “But I'm clean, man, I promise.”

“You, along with everyone else,” Bucky says skeptically, but then he looks at him, long and steady. He licks his lips, eyes dropping down to where Steve is standing tall between his legs, and then he sighs. “Oh, what the hell…” he mutters, and Steve's heart rate picks back up when Bucky tosses the unopened condoms back onto the bed. 

When Bucky then scoots further down the mattress to lean his face down over his groin, Steve feels like his heart is going to come crashing through his ribcage altogether.

Bucky's breath is hot against his skin, and Steve twitches in the heat of it, propped up against the pillow behind his back, which leaves him with a perfect view of what Bucky is doing to him. Or rather, what he's  _ not _ doing to him.

“Say it,” Bucky whispers, smoothing both his hands up the length of Steve's thighs, up to his hips.

“Blow me,” Steve responds, almost on reflex. “Put your mouth on my cock and suck me off.”

Bucky hums, pleased, and perhaps also a little bit impressed. He grips around Steve's base, giving him a few lazy strokes, and then he sinks down over him.

Steve's head thuds down against the pillow,  but it doesn't keep him from watching the tight pink of Bucky's lips as they close around him. They drag over his skin, and the soft wetness of Bucky's mouth leaves him slick and glistening in their wake. 

The flick of a tongue against the head of him has Steve's left leg jerking, and soon after, Bucky is using that tongue to lap along Steve's entire length, balls to tip. 

Steve curls his fingers around the headboard, bracing himself as he watches Bucky flare the tip of his tongue over his slit, dipping inside in a quick, teasing swipe, before pulling away. 

By now, Steve's breath is catching in his throat every other second. Not because he's never had a blow job before, or been touched in such a way, but because Bucky keeps  _ looking at him _ throughout the whole thing. His eyes – those sharp, wicked eyes – only flicker from Steve's face when Bucky has to blink, and it's like being stared down by a predator. Like a tiger that could kill you in less than a heartbeat, but whom for some reason has decided to take a liking to you instead.

The muscle of Bucky's shoulders roll when he dips his head down again, taking Steve all the way back into his throat, and god, he's gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous… 

It's not until Bucky closes his eyes with a muffled moan around Steve's cock that Steve realizes that he actually said that out loud.

Bucky is moving slow, just like that first kiss had been slow, and Steve closes his eyes as he lets himself sink into the feel of it. His chest rises and falls in time with Bucky’s lips, fingers twitching every time Bucky stops to toy with his tongue over Steve’s skin.

Then suddenly, the pop of a bottle cap is heard, and Steve tenses, his eyes snapping open. In turn, Bucky suckles at the head of his cock, just a little bit harder, snapping him back into focus.

“Relax,” he orders softly, lips brushing against Steve’s cock even as he speaks. “It’ll be much easier if you do.”

“Define easy,” Steve grates back, and Bucky snorts out a laugh.

“Just remember to breathe,” he urges as he pours a final dribble of lube onto his fingers, before snapping the cap back into place. 

“I've had my fingers there before,” Steve points out.

“Yeah, _ your _ fingers,” Bucky retorts, just as calm. “It's different when you're not the one in control. But I guess you're pretty familiar with that by now, huh?”

Steve quickly decides he's probably better off not answering that. He just does as he’s told, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes again while allowing Bucky to push his legs up and apart. When he exhales, he feels the first tentative press of fingers against his center, spreading the lube around, and when he drags down his next mouthful of air into his lungs, Bucky pushes the first digit inside.

It’s not  _ that  _ different, not really. At least not until Bucky begins to move the finger back and forth, because  _ that’s  _ when Steve gets what Bucky meant.

“Oh, my god…” he pants, attempting to shy away from the touch out of sheer instinct. “Oh, god, that’s— Oh, god…!” 

“Told you,” Bucky sing-songs, and then Steve gasps when Bucky goes down on him again, closing his lips around him with a hard suckle.

It doesn’t feel good to have a finger up your butt. Not right away. It takes a while, but Bucky makes sure to compensate for that momentary discomfort with his mouth. He bobs his head, slow and teasing at the same pace as he shifts the digit inside Steve’s body, and Steve honestly can’t decide whether he wants him to stop, or do it more. It doesn’t take long before Bucky is forced to use his free hand to hold Steve still by the inside of his thigh, and he presses him down against the mattress as he slots a second finger up alongside the first, using it to scissor Steve open.

Steve isn’t even sure of the noises he’s making can be defined as human anymore. He knows that he’s saying Bucky’s name from time to time, but that’s more just to say anything than to make any actual attempts to establish contact. Every time he does, Bucky just hums around Steve’s cock, and the vibrations travel through Steve’s body like a shockwave.

By the time Bucky wiggles a third finger inside, he has efficiently rendered Steve a total mess. Steve is shaking, again, and his knuckles are pale where his hands grip around the metal beam of the headboard, seemingly incapable of letting go. His eyes are closed, his mouth open, and he has his head thrown back against the pillow, baring his throat with each gasp that makes it across his lips.

There’s a tingle in his stomach, like a stirring that rises and falls in waves. It’s not the kind of sensation Steve is used to feel while fingering himself, but then again, Bucky has a better reach than he did at the moment. And a better technique too.

He’s moving his fingers steadily, as if he’s working to the beat of a song, and his motions are assertive, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s perfect, in every single way, except for the fact that it’s _ too damned slow. _

Steve groans as he twists his head to the side to let out a breathless gasp against the bicep of his own arm, pushing back over the lengths inside him to gain some momentum, but it doesn’t help. 

It’s maddening. He feels as if he’s on the verge of coming, has been for ages, but it’s not enough. It’s just building, like a never ending wave that doesn’t seem willing to crest or break, and it has him balancing on the line between pleasure and torture until his brain feels like it’s going to collapse from it.

To make matters even worse, Bucky then decides to pull off of him completely, and Steve is left twitching in the cold air that instantly rushes in to replace the warmth of his mouth.

“Enjoying yourself so far?” Bucky muses, and Steve bites back a curse under his breath. As if he doesn’t already know, the smug bastard.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Bucky continues, without waiting for an answer. “To give it up like this?” He presses his fingers in a little bit harder, yet still with the same steady pace, and Steve chokes, going rigid. His thighs begin to tremble when he feels the pads of Bucky’s fingers move against his insides, coaxing throb upon throb of that searing heat to pulse through his abdomen. They make his cock twitch, cause the muscles in his abs to spasm, and it’s fucking scary to not be the one in control of your own body like that, but Steve can’t help but want more of it all the same.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Bucky cooes, slowing down even more. “You’re too tense.”

“I can’t…” Steve grits. “I can’t, I can't, it’s— Jesus…!”

“You’ve never come hands-free before?” Bucky asks, suddenly sounding curious.

“N—No,” Steve admits with a twitchy shake of his head. “No, I never— Fuck, it feels so weird…”

“It does,” Bucky agrees, “but it’ll feel amazing in a minute. Trust me.”

Steve nods, breath stuttering on its way down his lungs. 

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs. “C’mon, show me. Fuck, I wanna see you come so bad…”

Steve whines. He wants to come, he's so close he can taste it in the back of his throat. His muscles feel like steel springs throughout his limbs, ready to snap at any given second. He wants to let go, to let the pleasure take him over, but his body is still fighting it.

It's a frustration beyond anything Steve's ever experienced, a pleasurable ache that consumes even the simplest of thoughts, and the only thing he can focus on is how infuriatingly  _ close _ he is. 

“Faster,” he pleads. “Go faster…!”

“Oh, no,” Bucky objects. “No, I think you're good, just like this… Fuck, you're so fucking pretty…” The sentence is ended with a low moan – subtle enough not to be startling, but more than sufficient to make Steve open his eyes to send a curious glance down the length of his body. 

Bucky is still fingering him, oh yes, but he's no longer slumped over with his face positioned over Steve's groin. He is leaned back, kneeling with his free hand shoved down the front of his partially-unbuttoned jeans, and when Steve looks up, he meets his gaze, moaning again. 

“C’mon…” he breathes, hand moving beneath the fabric of his pants. “C’mon, Stevie, c’mon…”

The wave builds. It rises inside Steve like a wall, and when Bucky's jaw goes slack with another moan, Steve can feel the high of it spark inside the centre of his chest like an electric circuit closing.

The wave breaks. 

Hearing and seeing Bucky touch himself like that sends Steve crashing over the edge so hard the air locks up inside his chest. He comes, hard and pulsing, and Bucky lets out an encouraging growl as he uses the pads of his fingers to stroke him through it.

Steve can't tell if he's moaning, shouting, or being completely silent. His insides quake as the orgasm surges through him, and it doesn't seem to ever want to stop. The force of it startles him, leaves him floating helpless in its wake as it slowly turns his breathless gasps for air into a continuous string of hoarse whimpers.

When Bucky eventually pulls his fingers out, Steve is only capable of making a little whine in the back of his throat. It's not an objection, nor an approval – he just feels as if he should be making some sort of sound, and that's the best he can manage.

He feels spent, on a near-molecular level, but inside his chest, he feels as if he's about to explode. There's still too much inside him that hasn't been given an outlet, and before he is even aware that it's going to happen, Steve feels a sob blubber past his lips.

Bucky, who's just finished cleaning off his fingers with the wet wipes, immediately looks up. 

“You okay?” he asks. He sounds as if he's frowning, but Steve can't tell through the blur that's fogging up his vision. Then the bed dips, and Steve feels Bucky's hand ghost against his shoulder. “Hey, hey, listen, I'm here,” Bucky soothes, and now he sounds genuinely  _ concerned _ . “Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?”

Steve shakes his head, turning his face into the crook of his own elbow while closing his eyes because he  _ doesn't know _ . He doesn't  _ know _ why he's crying, but he can't  _ stop _ , and there's a lump in his throat the size of fucking  _ Alaska _ , and it's just— 

“Too much, huh?” Bucky murmurs, and Steve grits his teeth in embarrassment when the cool of Bucky's fingers brushes against his hairline. “It's okay,” Bucky murmurs. “Sometimes this stuff gets intense. Just let it out. It's okay, I promise.”

He leans down, and Steve feels his lips press in against his cheek, kissing the tears away while Bucky runs his fingers through Steve's hair, down over his neck and shoulders, petting him. For a brief moment, Steve feels him move away, only to return just as fast, and Steve sucks in a surprised gasp, eyes flying open, when the moist touch of what turns out to be a wet wipe is draped over his stomach.

Bucky cleans him up, gently and carefully, pausing ever so often to place reassuring kisses against the skin he’s just cleared, and slowly, Steve’s breathing even out into a steady rise and fall once again.

“Feeling better?” Bucky asks, lying down next to Steve’s side, and Steve nods as he turns around to lie flat on his back again with a final, wet snivel. 

“Yeah,” he grates. “I just...wasn't expecting that to happen.”

“Me neither,” Bucky admits. He uses his thumb to gently wipe at the corner of Steve’s eye, and then he chuckles. “Fuck, you scared the crap out of me there for a second.”

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs. He glances down Bucky's body, down to where the evident bulge inside the other man's underwear is peeking out through Bucky's partially undone fly. “I could make it up to you?” he suggests, and Bucky cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“Well, I…guess I could...repay the favor?”

“You wanna suck me off or finger me?” Bucky asks incredulously, and Steve feels himself blush at little. 

“My hands are a bit hard to move right now, so take a wild guess,” he retorts, but then he looks down again. “I've never done it before,” he admits. “Given someone a blow job, I mean.”

“Well, there's no better time to learn than the present, right?” Bucky drawls, and Steve nods, licking his lips.

“Yeah. There's just…this one thing,” he says slowly, and Bucky frowns.

“What thing?” he asks.

“I don't want you to wear a condom,” Steve confesses, and when Bucky opens his mouth to object, he adds, “You trusted me. Now I'll trust you.”

“That might not be so smart,” Bucky warns him.

“I'm willing to risk it,” Steve decides. “I'm pretty sure you would have told me by now if you were carrying anything.”

“But you can't be sure,” Bucky argues. “I might be carrying something without even knowing it.” He licks his lips, looking down at Steve. The gray of his eyes is serious, but there's also a gleam of something else in there. As if he's looking down at a puzzle he's dying to piece together. Or take apart, Steve's not sure. “You're not all that into the whole play-it-safe kind of lifestyle, are you?” he asks slowly.

“I guess not,” Steve agrees. “I mean, if I wanted the taste of rubber in my mouth, I’d might as well go suck off a dildo.” He looks at Bucky, and somehow manages to holds his gaze as he adds, “I want the real deal.”

It's close to alarming to see the way the pupils of Bucky's eyes dilate when the last word leaves Steve's mouth. His jaw clenches, and a few seconds later, Bucky slings his leg over Steve's waist and rolls up to straddle him across the chest with a huff.

“You really know how to sell a concept, don't you?” he mutters, even as he brings his hands down to unbutton the rest of his fly.

“I try,” Steve admits modestly. He also tries not to stare when Bucky reaches into his underwear (black, like his jeans) and pulls himself out, but it's not as easy as he had planned. 

Bucky's cock is, in lack of a better word, impressive. Steve's been in dressing rooms with other men, and he's seen a whole lot of porn in his life, and Bucky's cock certainly looks like it belongs in the latter setting. It's thick, long, with a generous girth around the base, a rounded head, and a pronounced ridge along the bottom of the shaft that Steve instantly wants to drag his tongue against. 

The sight has Steve licking his lips. He looks up at Bucky, who's looking back down at him, and then slowly begins to lean in, mouth open. He has to strain his neck a bit in order to reach, which probably makes him look pretty damn desperate. The quiet gasp Bucky lets out when Steve flattens his tongue against the head of his cock, however, tells him that Bucky probably likes that look on him.

When Steve's mouth makes contact with the head of Bucky's cock, Bucky sighs while tipping his head back to breathe out a low, “Oh, yeah…” towards the ceiling. Next thing, Steve feels the length slide in between his lips when Bucky rocks his hips forward, and he moans in spite of himself when he feels himself get filled up. Bucky tastes salty, yet his skin is sweet, and it blends together to form something intoxicating and primal inside Steve's mouth that he can't get enough of. 

He knows that his technique is unschooled and mostly consists of him just guessing what to do, but Bucky appears to appreciate it just the same. He is moaning in time with the slow bobs of Steve's head, and when Steve brings his tongue up to lick at the velvety smooth glans, Bucky drops his left hand down to tangle his fingers in Steve's hair, steadying himself.

“Holy shit…” he groans, before chuckling under his breath. “You sure you've never sucked dick before?”

Steve hums, and Bucky chokes down another startled chuckle as he moves his other hand down to slide his thumb along the slick edge of Steve's lower lip.

“You're so damn pretty, Snowflake…” he whispers, carding his fingers through Steve's hair. “Looking so good with my cock in your mouth… You like that, don't ya? Those fucking lips of yours, all red and swollen… Jesus fuck…”

He lets out a ragged gasp, and then slides both his hands down to grab around the back of Steve's head while fucking into his mouth, just a little faster. Steve lets him, enjoying the thrill of being used like that. He likes the gentle but firm way Bucky cups his hands around his skull to keep his head from moving away, leaving him feeling so helpless and yet so loved and cared for. 

It makes him want to do better. Makes him want to give Bucky the same mind-blowing treatment that Bucky had given him, but when he tries to pick up the pace of his mouth, Bucky holds him back with a surprised gasp.

“Oh, no, not yet, not yet…” he warns, smiling while trying not to laugh. “Shit… Wouldn't wanna end this party too soon, now, would we?”

He pulls away, out of Steve’s mouth, and Steve gives him a final, lingering suckle before dropping his head back against the pillow.

“Yeah…” Bucky breathes, dragging his index finger lazily against the corner of Steve’s mouth, down to the centre of his bottom lip. “Definitely not too soon…” He moves his gaze up, meeting the hooded look out of Steve’s eyes. “Tell me your safeword again.”

“Ten-forty-three,” Steve answers obediently, and his stomach gives a nervous flip as he says it. So far into this, he hasn't had to use that word. Hasn't wanted to. He remembers the feeling of having his chest nearly crack open with emotions, to have all of that stirring inside him with no way out, but that had never been… _ too _ much. It had been overwhelming, yes, but not dangerous. Not in the way he knows games like this sometimes get. Bucky has been so gentle, and oh, so careful with him so far, but Steve can tell from the way Bucky is looking at him now, that he is capable of so much more.

It's exciting, not to mention nerve-wracking, and suddenly, Steve feels grateful that Bucky actually took the time to ask.

“Ten-forty-three…” Bucky repeats slowly, nodding. He climbs off of Steve’s chest to kneel beside him. Then he grabs a gentle, but firm hold around Steve’s biceps, and guides him around and up. “On your knees,” he says. 

His voice is soft, but it's an order nonetheless, and Steve obliges, as well as he can. It's hard for him to find his bearings on the wobbly mattress, but Bucky helps him, and soon enough, he’s kneeling on the bed with his hands gripping around the headboard to steady himself, the chain of the handcuffs twisted over itself from his new position. It makes his range of motion tighter, but Steve finds that he doesn’t mind it. If he has to be honest with himself, he’d say it actually feels better. More right.

The mattress beneath him dips when Bucky moves around him, a hand ghosting along the skin of Steve’s side as he goes, and Steve flinches at the feather-light touch.

“Ticklish, officer?” Bucky purrs, noticing the involuntary movement. “Or just sensitive?” Steve shivers when he feels Bucky place his other hand on his lower back. It’s warm, yet the touch of it makes Steve’s skin prickle with goosebumps. “Don’t worry,” Bucky assures him. “No matter which, I’m still gonna make it good for you…”

Steve hangs his head down. He hears the sound of foil crinkling and tearing, followed by the soft pop of the lube bottle. Steve’s gut coils tight as he remembers how large Bucky had felt in his mouth mere moments ago, and he tenses, suddenly wondering if he might have gotten in a bit over his head with this.

When Bucky moments later lets his hand rub over the swell of Steve’s ass before settling in the dip of his spine, Steve actually has to remind himself how to breathe.

“Now, what’s that phrase again?” Bucky ponders out loud, and Steve swallows hard when he feels the cold sensation of lubed-up latex press in against his hole. “Oh, right…” He leans down over Steve’s back, and gives a tender, lingering kiss to his shoulder, whispering,  _ “You have the right to remain silent…” _

Then, he slowly begins to push himself forward, push  _ inside _ , and holy shit, Steve can’t do this…!

“Wait…!” he croaks, because it’s too much, too fast. “Bucky, wait!”

To his relief, and gratitude, Bucky stops. He doesn’t pull out, however, and Steve struggles to get his composure back under control.

“You can take it,” Bucky says simply. His voice is calm, but it holds no pity. It makes Steve’s insides quake. He wants to say something back, but even though he opens his mouth, he can’t come up with anything that would make sense.

“This isn’t supposed to be easy,” Bucky continues, “but it will get  _ easier. _ Do you understand?” 

Steve nods, and he lets out a low whine in the back of his throat when he feels Bucky smooth his hand up his back.

“Good.”

Bucky moves, albeit slower this time. It’s obvious that he’s dragging it out to make sure that Steve’s comfortable, and for some reason, that makes Steve feel like he just failed a test of some sort. It lights a spark of resolve inside his chest, and he grits his teeth, fighting back the urge he has to squirm away from the length being pushed inside him. He can feel a cold sweat break out all over his body, and he feels as if he each movement from Bucky’s hips has lightning coiling just beneath the surface of his skin, but he can take it. Bucky said that he can take it.

“That’s it…” Bucky hums while easing himself back out, then back in, setting a pace. “That’s it, baby…”

The hands against Steve’s skin continue to move, dragging lazily up and down his back, and Steve arches up with a hiss when the blunt touch of Bucky’s fingernails begins to claw red marks down his shoulders.

“I’m gonna mess you up real good, Snowflake,” Bucky promises hoarsely. “Gonna fuck you raw, how do you like the sound of that?”

“S’good…” Steve slurs back. “Sounds so good…”

“Yeah, it does,” Bucky agrees, and Steve groans when he rocks in a bit harder, a little bit faster. “I bet you’ll sound pretty damn amazing too, once I make you come all over my cock…”

At that, Steve’s head actually reels a little. Again? Bucky is planning to make him come  _ again? _

“You ready for that, Steve?” Bucky asks, fingers curling over the top of Steve’s shoulders. “You ready for me to fuck you? To mess you up? Make you  _ beg for me? _ ”

“Yes…” God, Steve can barely believe that he’s saying it, but he is. “Yes, please…” 

“Say it,” Bucky growls, and Steve gasps, grabbing harder around the metal of the headboard.

“Fuck me,” he grits, clenching his teeth. “Please, Bucky…fuck me.”

“That’s my boy,” Bucky hisses, and after that, Steve isn’t really capable of registering anything else, because it’s all,  _ “Oh” _ ,  _ “Yes” _ ,and,  _ “Holy f—!” _ .

Suddenly, Bucky is pounding into him, shoving his cock inside with quick, snappy thrusts of his pelvis, and Steve can’t  _ breathe. _ Bucky is holding onto his shoulders, keeping him in place while simultaneously keeping Steve’s head from banging into the steel of the headboard, and it’s rough, and it’s hard, and it’s  _ oh, so fucking good…! _

Steve has no idea how thin the walls of this apartment complex are, and even if he did know, he certainly wouldn’t care. He is already yelling, crying out against the mattress with each punishing snap of Bucky’s hips as he is being fucked within an inch of his life. He begs, but he has no idea for what. His pleas are incoherent, mixed in with brokens sobs and half-finished sentences, and with each sound he makes, Bucky only seems to drive in even harder.

The sensation of having Bucky’s cock rub up against his already over-sensitive prostate sends bolts of electric pleasure crackling up Steve’s spine, like liquid ice coursing through his veins only to vaporise into scalding steam the moment Bucky does it again. It’s an infinite loop without end, and it soon has him whining deep in his throat as he tries his best to keep himself upright. 

Bucky’s name tumbles from his lips, and for some reason that works. Steve latches onto the sound of it, to the way it’s shaped inside his mouth before Bucky’s next shove has it rolling off his tongue, grounding him.

“Bucky… Bucky, Bucky, oh, fuck, Bucky…!”

Bucky just growls, and once again, the mental image of a predator makes its appearance inside Steve’s mind. He can see it before his inner vision, Bucky, with that messy hair falling down across his forehead, moving in time with the whoosh of his breathing. That muscular chest, rising and falling, arms tensing, hips rolling… 

He is startled back to reality when suddenly Bucky lets go of his right shoulder to slap the palm of his hand against Steve’s right ass cheek with a loud smack. The impact has Steve’s breath catching in the back of his throat with a yelp, and Bucky groans, rubbing his hand over the area that’s now pulsing warm beneath the touch.

“Yeah, you liked that, huh?” he pants, and before Steve can answer, he does it again, on the same spot, sending a throb of sensations shooting through Steve’s limbs. “It makes you clench up so tight,” he grates, hand landing on Steve’s ass for a third time. “Squeezing me so good, like a good little cockslut.”

Steve can’t tell which makes him want to moan more; the force of which Bucky is smacking him, or the way he’s talking while doing it. Given that anyone else who’d call Steve a cockslut to his face would probably find themselves face-down on the pavement faster than they could end the sentence, with Bucky’s cock buried to the hilt inside him, the name only serves to make him feel warm and gratified.

It spreads over his skin, like a warm blanket, and when Bucky spanks him again, he moans, loudly and unabashed. Steve feels like he’s floating inside his own head, and he can feel the pleasure begin to build, that same wave from before rising inside him at a close to alarming rate. 

“I'm gonna come…” he gasps, breath stuttering when Bucky's open palm makes impact with his rear once again.

“Damn right, you are…” Bucky hisses, underlining the sentence with another slap. “Gonna fuck the come right out of you, Snowflake. You'll be feeling me for fucking  _ days _ .”

Steve keens. His throat feels as if it's closing in around itself, rendering him mute, and he's barely hard between his legs, but it doesn't matter, because he's coming. He's coming with Bucky's palm searing against his skin, comes without a sound in the middle of a desperate breath. He comes so hard, he loses the grip he's been holding around the headboard, slipping down to hang in the handcuffs alone, and Jesus Christ, Bucky's not  _ stopping _ .

Steve tries, but he can't even form a comprehensive syllable, and his skin practically ripples with goosebumps when Bucky suddenly picks up pace, fucking into him hard and rough with a growl. 

“Shit, you feel so good. Such a pretty little slut for me… Oh, I'm gonna fill you up, Steve, I'm gonna come inside your ass so fucking hard…! Steve… Oh,  _ fuck _ , Steve…”

Steve knows that Bucky's got a condom on,that what he's telling him isn't really possible, but he doesn't care. In that precise moment, every word coming out of Bucky's mouth is nothing but the god’s honest truth. Bucky's gonna come, and he's going to fill Steve up, gonna pump his release into him until he's spent and sated, and Steve can only nod, he doesn't have enough presence of mind to do anything else.

He feels Bucky let go of his shoulder in favor of grabbing hold around his hips with both hands as the growl in the other man's throat rises into a moan. Another follows in its wake, higher, more desperate, drowning out the wet slapping of skin against skin.

Steve nearly holds his breath, anticipation coiling inside his chest like a steel spring. Bucky is going to come.  _ Steve is going to make him come. _

“Please,” he begs. “Please, Buck, please…”

“Oh, shit…” Bucky gasps, and Steve can practically see him; head tossed back, jaw slack, eyes closed, as he continues breathlessly, “Oh, yeah… Oh, yeah, sweetheart, here it comes… Oh, fuck.  _Oh, fuck…!_ ”

Steve's arms quake when Bucky drives into him one final time, burying himself to the hilt at the same time as his entire body goes rigid. He keeps Steve there, rolling his hips as he comes inside him with a throaty whine, thrusting, but not pulling out. Steve can feel the sharp jut of his hips push in against the swell of his ass, and that new, soaring part of him sort of wishes that they'll leave marks on him.

Bucky drags a slow shuddering breath into his lungs, and Steve just barely manages to keep himself up when Bucky then collapses down on top of him, draping himself over a Steve's back with a contented sigh.

“Holy shit…” Bucky pants, words barely intelligible. “That was fucking amazing…”

Steve hums back an affirmative, shuddering when he feels Bucky press his lips against the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods, smiling. He wonders how many times Bucky has asked him that so far. Not that he minds it, of course. 

Bucky kisses him again, right in between the shoulder blades, and then he straightens up. Steve winces a little when he pulls out, and then he nearly laughs at how downright empty he feels when the girth of Bucky's cock leaves him clenching around nothing.

Steve’s head is spinning, his heart pounding, and he's only vaguely aware of the fact that Bucky is once again using the wet wipes to clean them both up. This time, there's no lump in his throat, no wild flutter inside his chest. He's just content. Relaxed. Fuck, he feels as if he could fall asleep right there on his knees…

“Dammit, where did I throw that stupid belt…” 

The mattress dips, and Steve hears Bucky pad across the floor, before the rattle of Steve's duty belt is heard, followed by the metallic jingle of a key.

As the handcuffs come off, Steve nearly collapses straight down onto the bed. His arms feel like they've been filled with concrete, as does the rest of his body. He's more than grateful when Bucky wraps his own arms around him and guides him to lie down on the other side of the mattress, away from the wet spot on the sheets.

It's a tight fit when Bucky lies down next to him, but they manage. Steve allows Bucky to rearrange their bodies so that he’s lying on his back with his head resting on Bucky's chest, and Steve sighs when Bucky pulls the covers up from the floor to drape it over them both. 

“Tired?” Bucky murmurs softly, stroking across Steve's forehead with his fingers, and Steve nods quietly. “Yeah, I can imagine. You'll probably be a bit sore tomorrow, too,” Bucky informs him, and Steve smiles.

“That’s okay…” he mumbles. “I don't mind it…”

Steve squints his eyes open, blinking in the dim lights of the apartment. How long has he had them closed? He looks up, noticing that Bucky is looking down at him, and slowly, he reaches his hand up and splays his fingers over Bucky's jaw.

Bucky smiles, and gently grabs his wrist. He then proceeds to press soft, tender little kisses against each of Steve's fingertips, closing his eyes as if he's savoring the feel of them against his lips. 

“You did so well, Snowflake,” he whispers as he combs his other hand through the top of Steve's hair. “Fuck, if this truly was your first time, then you did better than well. You were amazing.”

Steve chuckles, turning his face to snuggle it against Bucky's clavicle. “Thanks,” he says. “I feel pretty amazing too, to be honest.”

“I bet,” Bucky says with an amused laugh, and Steve closes his eyes when he feels Bucky's lips press against the top of his head.

Bucky's body is warm where it presses against his, the bed is soft, and before he knows it, Steve is dozing off. When he wakes up, Bucky is asleep too, and his heartbeat is slow and steady against the shell of Steve's ear. He has his arms wrapped around Steve's shoulders, holding him close, and just like that, Steve feels a twinge of sadness pierce through his heart when he realizes that once Bucky wakes up, it'll be time for him to leave.

He has nothing against leaving. Not really. He doesn’t mind the thought of going home and taking a shower before falling asleep in his own bed. What bothers him is the thought of doing all that, and never getting to experience any of this again.

He can't really describe it, even to himself. He just knows that lying here like this, with Bucky's arms around him, and this satiated feeling humming through every fibre of his body is like  _ coming home _ , in a way.  

It's so silly. So needy. It makes Steve feel like the protagonist of every sappy love story ever written, but he can't help it.

That's why he just lies there, listening to Bucky breathe while doing a mix between savoring and clinging to the moment. He stays like that until Bucky begins to stir, and even though Bucky pulls Steve in for a kiss upon waking, Steve still can't shake the feeling that it's just a gentle way of saying good-bye.

Bucky prompts Steve to drink a big glass of water before lending him his bathroom, and Steve gratefully steps into the shower to clean himself up. Afterwards, he stands in front of the mirror after having wiped the fog off the glass to look at his own reflection. 

His upper body is absolutely  _ riddled _ with hickeys, all the way from his collarbones down to his hips. There are scratch marks on his back, traces of what soon will be bruises on the insides of his thighs where Bucky held him down, and his right butt cheek is blooming red after the spanking. 

It's too soon to tell if there will be any other marks on him, and yes, he's fully aware of that he actually  _ wanted _ more, but the ones he has are more than enough to render the locker room down at the station an interrogation chamber in the upcoming week.

He sighs as he pulls his clothes back on. There's no helping it. God, Sam is gonna hound his ass over this one… Not to mention Nat. And both of them know he was assigned to this case, too, and neither are dumb enough  _ not _ to put two and two together. Fuck…

He buttons his shirt and wraps the duty belt (including his holster and gun, which he brought with him into the bathroom, because he's not a  _ complete _ idiot) around his waist. He doesn't bother with fixing his tie. Technically he's off duty at the moment, and nobody's gonna notice anyway. Also, he doesn't really feel like caring about it right now… 

Bucky is sitting in one of the kitchen chairs when Steve comes back out, but he immediately stands up, looking at Steve from across the table. He doesn't speak, and Steve doesn't know what to say either.

“So…” Bucky sighs, after what feels like ages. “Guess this is the end of the line, huh?”

“Guess so,” Steve murmurs.

“You gonna be okay?” Bucky asks, and the genuinely concerned way he says it actually causes a lump to form in Steve's throat. He wants to tell him no. That he won't be okay at all.

“Yeah,” is what he hears himself say, however. “I'll be fine.”

Bucky nods, looking down. “Yeah, well…it was fun,” he says. “So, you know, thanks for that.”

“Right back at ya…” Steve offers lamely. 

For some ridiculous reason, this situation feels even more surreal than what finding himself handcuffed to Bucky's bed had felt like less than two hours earlier. Is he really expected to just leave now? To just turn his back and never think of this again?

He looks away, jaw clenching, and then he turns around and heads towards the door. He doesn't want to wait for Bucky to tell him to leave – that kind of humiliation would be too much for him to handle right now – and he feels his heart thud with pain when he hears Bucky move to follow him.

He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to go.

_ I don't want to go…  _

“Can I ask you something?” Steve says, turning around, just before reaching the door. He's stalling, he knows that, but he doesn't care. He just wants a little more time, and as Bucky cants his head back in question, he goes with the first relatable topic that pops into his mind. “Did you really do all those things at King’s Plaza just because you were  _ bored? _ ”

Bucky looks at him for a few seconds. Then he shrugs. “A guy's gotta have a hobby, right?” he says, as if that explains it all.

“I think people would appreciate it if you got yourself a new one, then,” Steve points out, and Bucky's lips quirk up into a smile.

“Maybe I will,” he says. He glances up at Steve. “You sure were a welcome distraction,” he confesses. Stepping closer, he then adds, quieter, “I wouldn't mind being distracted like that again…”

Steve's heart damn near comes flying right out of his chest. 

“You wouldn't?” he asks dumbly.

“Hell no,” Bucky chuckles. “What, you thought after all that, I'd just let you walk out of here? I may be impulsive, but I'm not stupid.”

“Why, I— I didn't think—”

“Listen, if you want this to be a one time thing, then that's fine,” Bucky offers quickly, “but if you wanna, you know, get together sometime…”

“Yes,” Steve blurts out, smiling. “I mean, that— I'd like that.”

“Awesome,” Bucky drawls, and instantly, that mischievous little smirk from when Steve first met him slots into place. This time, however, it makes Steve feel flustered for entirely different reasons. 

“You want my number?” Steve asks, already digging into his pocket for pen and paper.

“Nah, I won't need it,” Bucky says, waving the offer away. “I know where to find you.”

Steve deflates a little, but decides to let it go. He still feels hesitant to leave without giving Bucky any proper means of contacting him. Then again, if Bucky doesn't actually  _ want _ to do that, then leaving his number won't make a difference. It's a bit of a depressing thought, but it's true. So instead, Steve just nods, moving to grab for the door.

As his fingers close around the knob, however, he feels Bucky's hand grasp around the top of his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Steve turns around, and then Bucky is wrapping both his arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. Steve's back thuds against the door, and Steve breathes out a surprised moan into the kiss as his own hands come up to clutch around Bucky's back.

He barely has time to get into it, though, before Bucky pulls back again, looking at him with a pleased expression.

“I'll keep in touch,” he promises, and Steve nods, mouth still open. Then, before he knows it, he is standing in the hallway outside the apartment, watching Bucky smile at him before shutting the door.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Two days later, on Friday morning, Steve barely makes it across the floor of the office, before he's stopped dead in his tracks by a commandeering voice calling out his name. And it does  _ not _ sound happy.

“Rogers!”

Steve turns around, and his shoulders slump when he sees Fury come marching down the aisle of desks, headed straight for him. 

“Sir?” he asks, and Fury stops in front of him with a glare. 

“I thought you said you took care of the problem at King’s Plaza.”

“I did,” Steve says, frowning.

“Oh, really?” Fury says skeptically. “Then would you please explain to me why I just got a call from the King’s Plaza management, telling me it still hasn’t stopped?”

“I...uhh… I mean, I thought I—” Steve clears his throat when Fury raises a lone eyebrow at him, and he quickly straightens up. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Fury repeats. “I'll tell you what happened. Apparently, the mall hadn't been open for more than a measly hour before—” He stops, taking a deep breath.

“Before what, sir?” Steve asks.

“Before every air vent in the joint started sprouting tiny paper snowflakes all over the place,” Fury finishes tightly.

Steve blinks. Then he blinks again.

Once he's sure he got the blinking down, he puts his police cap back onto his head with a sigh, and then turns around, heading for the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Fury demands.

“To take care of it,” Steve throws back over his shoulder. He's sure that Fury can hear that he's smiling, but he also doesn't really care.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Half an hour later, he rings the doorbell to Bucky's apartment, and about ten seconds after that, he hears the safety chain rattle on the other side just before the door creaks open.

“It didn’t occur to you that you could’ve just asked me to come over?” Steve asks calmly.

“Well,” Bucky shoots back through the crack, “I couldn’t exactly go down to the station and ask for you, now, could I?”

The door closes, and Steve waits while Bucky removes the safety chain before opening it up again.

“How come you don't wanna go down to the station?” Steve asks.

“Not don't wanna,” Bucky corrects while moving over to let Steve inside. “Not  _ allowed _ . They've banned me from the place.”

“Seriously?” Steve asks, stepping across the threshold. “Why?”

“Apparently, you guys don't like it when I mess with your stuff,” Bucky explains. He shuts the door, locking it. “As I've understood it, last time I was brought in, it took you a little over two weeks to get it all back in its proper place again.”

“Oh my god, that was  _ you? _ ” Steve exclaims, and Bucky laughs heartily as he comes up from behind to circle his arms around Steve's waist. Steve lets him, and he slowly tips his head back to let it fall down against Bucky's shoulder when he feels Bucky slide his hands up to grab around his chest. 

“Hi, Buck,” he murmurs, smiling fondly.

One of the hands moves up to gently remove the cap from his head, dropping it to the floor, and Steve sighs when he feels the touch of lips brush against his skin as Bucky purrs out a low, approving hum against the shell of his ear.

“Hello, Snowflake…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys <3  
> Feel free to let me know what you thought of the story.  
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://chiyume.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chiyume87), should you want to talk there instead.  
> I respond to all messages, and I love talking to people, so please don't hesitate to write me <3


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